I answer with a sigh. “Please tell me you’re calling to say you found a way to delete the entire internet.”
She doesn’t even say hello. “TURN ON CHANNEL 7. NOW.”
I blink. “No. Hard pass. I’m not watching Mark cry his way through another publicity stunt.”
“It’s not about Mark. Well, it is. But also not. Annabelle, I swear on my Sephora points, you need to TURN. IT. ON.”
“Why?”
“I’m not allowed to say.”
“Shari.”
“Dex threatened me.”
I sit up. “What?”
She inhales sharply. “GIRL JUST DO IT.”
She hangs up.
Of course she does.
I stare at my blank TV.
I stare at my popcorn.
I stare at the ceiling like maybe God will send a memo.
Nothing.
So I grab the remote, muttering, “This better not ruin my night more than it already is.”
The screen flashes to life.
A packed plaza. A stage. Screaming fans.
And then…
Mark.
Of course.
I groan. “Shari, why would you…”
Then the camera pans.
And I see Dex.
Near the stage.
Followed by Colby. Eli. Gabriel.
My bowl hits the couch cushion.
“Oh no.”
Mark lifts the mic with tortured-artist seriousness.
